


Darkest Before Dawn

by SarahLannister



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Magic, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mild Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 23:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14681637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahLannister/pseuds/SarahLannister
Summary: It's the night before the penultimate battle and Alistair is faced with a tough decision...





	Darkest Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! Thought I'd throw this fic up here as I was going through my mostly defunct DeviantArt account to back-up some old fanfics and thought "Hmm, this is a good 'un" so decided to add it to the archive for anyone who wishes to read it. I used to write a fair bit of Dragon Age Origins fanfiction that was reasonably well recived so feck it, might as well pop it up here for posterity!
> 
> This is largely unedited from my DevArt posting save for some minor spellchecking and formatting. I do not have a beta reader so apologies in advance.
> 
> Please enjoy my take on the Dark Ritual and the night before the final battle.
> 
> -Chubbs

**Darkest Before Dawn**

 

**A Dragon Age Origins Fanfiction**

**By McChubbin**

 

 **(Originally hosted on my old, now mostly defunct DevArt page)**  
  
  
Pairing: Alistair x Ksenia (Human Mage) with Morrigan x Alistair (Dark Ritual)  
  
  
Rating: M for mentions of sexy times.  
  
  
 **Summary:** _It's the night before the penultimate battle and Alistair is faced with a tough decision..._

  
\----------------------------------------------

  
Swallowing back the lump in her throat, the silver-haired mage shook her head with disbelief.  
  
"Why didn't you mention this before, Morrigan?" her tone was soft, more exasperated than outright stunned.  
  
"Would you have entertained my company if I did?" the witch replied simply, tenting her fingers as she sat next to her young ward on the edge of the bed. Ksenia pulled her knees to her chest- a defensive gesture and one Morrigan always regarded as betraying her age. Sensing the tension in the woman's shoulders, she sighed and draped an arm around them in a bid to offer comfort.  
  
"You are...like a sister to me, Ksenia." The malicifor spoke slowly, her voice uneven. She was not used to such open displays of affection but had, over the course of the last two years, slowly adapted to the strange nuances of Ferelden life. The small, willowy creature in her arms was once her sworn enemy- a Chantry brat, simply a puppet on a string. Yet the little mage did not fear the dreaded witch of the wilds.  
  
  
Ksenia was curious, entusiastic even and have all but begged Morrigan to teach her the magics unheard of at the Circle tower. Though weak in the arcane arts, the silvery haired girl had excelled in shapeshifting and though she would not readily admit it, Morrigan was proud of her only student.  
  
They had forged a close friendship in their time roaming the land seeking out troops for the impending battle but tonight, that bond would be pushed to the limits.  
  
  
"He-He'll never agree to it, Morrigan." Ksenia whispered, her sapphire eyes filled with tension as they peered up at her. The witch chuckled wryly and moved to push a wayward corkscew of silver from her dear friend's face.  
  
"Perhaps if you remind him of what is at stake, Alistair might see things from my perspective."  
  
"I-I don't know, Morrigan. This ritual... are you certain it will work as you say?"  
  
"Of course. Have I given you any reason to doubt me up to this point?"  
  
Ksenia hugged her knees tighter, conflict swirling through her head. She hadn't anticipated the conversation that followed a simple offering of bed-time tea to the witch. Dark magic, blood rituals cloaked in mystery and intrigue. God children. A possibility of surviving the wrath of the Arch-demon.  
  
All she had to do was convince the love of her life to knock up a woman he positively loathed.  
  
It was wildly outlandish, almost laughable were things not so dire and yet, as horrible a prospect it was, Ksenia found hersef agreeing to it. Her stomach lurched as she thought of the gentle ex-templar relaxing in the room across the hall-oblivious to his fate. Forcing a smile, she pushed her curls from her face and emitted a humourless chuckle.  
  
"You're asking me if I'll let you shag my boyfriend. I'm doubting your sanity at this point!"  
  
"Pfft. It is a means to an end, dear. Besides, it will be a brief encounter. I will be more than happy to return him to you once the deed is done. You can still enjoy the fruits of his loins for the night is still young and-  
  
"We-we never did it!" Ksenia squeaked as she felt her cheeks turn scarlet, hands flying to conceal the fact. She could feel the bemused stare from the witch at her side and it only served to intensify the colour of her face.  
  
"What? Did I hear that correctly?" Morrigan queried, bemussed as she thumbed her chin; "In two years of sharing a tent, you've never done the deed?"  
  
"I-!" Ksenia felt her throat go dry, her lip quivering. "I-I wanted to, Morrigan. Believe me, I did. But he's nothing if not a gentlemen and didn't wish to corrupt my pure, innocent young mind-!"  
  
"Hah! You are hardly of chaste mind these days, dear! Especially considering the escapades you get up to with the elf. Maker, the things he comes out with would make a whore blush!" the witch's shoulders heaved with ill-surpressed giggles but her laughter was soon cut short when she caught the pained look in Ksenia's eyes.  
  
It was suble-she had learned to hide her grievences well- but there was no mistaking it.  
  
"I suppose it is a small mercy that he is still a man of virtue, however dubious that might be." Morrigan said gently, idly curling her pinky around a rogue corkscrew. "The ritual will be a great deel stronger with virgin seed."  
  
"If it means we can go on living just a little while longer, I will do whatever it takes." There was staunch determination in Ksenia's normally quiet, laid-back tones. The witch stood up, folding her arms over her chest as she considered the young woman with quiet contemplation.  
  
"So it is agreed, then? You will go to Alistair and convince him to lay with me."  
  
"Yes." Ksenia nodded, moving towards the door. Her barefeet shivered against the cold stone floor. As her hand hovered over the doorknob, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Do promise me one thing, Morrigan."  
  
"Ask away."  
  
"Be gentle with him? And I don't just mean physically. Be kind. It is his first time after all."  
  
The witch couldn't help but curl her lip in distaste at the notion. She had be quietly looking forward to the chance to mock the ex-templar's prowess without mercy but it would seem she would have to curtail any plans for mischief for the time being. "Am I to derive no pleasure from this night?"  
  
"I'm serious, Morrigan." the young mage's hands crackled with tiny bolts of lightning as her brow furrowed darkly. "Show him a good time or you'll have me to answer to in the morning!"  
  
"I'd well believe it. You are most fiesty when you are angered!" The witch snorted with amusement but gave a slight nod. "Still, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. I will do my best to hold my tongue but it is not a promise I can keep."  
  
"Then perhaps I might procure a ball-gag from Zevran?"  
  
"Do you wish me to frighten the poor boy?"  
  
  
"Not for him. For _you_."Ksenia rolled her eyes and pulled the door open, shaking her head. "Good night, Morrigan."  
  
  
"And to you, dear. I shall stay and make myself more presentable."

  
\--------

  
  
Crossing the hall, Ksenia stood before the heavy oak door leading into one of the many guest bedrooms of Arl Eamon's sprawling estate. Shoulders weighted with the burden of such a heavy decision, she rested her forehead against the wood for just a moment, steeling herself for the awkward conversation that was soon to follow.  
  
 _How much should I divulge?_ She wondered, biting her bottom lip; _Maybe don't tell him about the baby-makin' part..._ She found herself clearing her throat awkwardly, flushing at the mental image of her beloved and Morrigan doing... doing **that**...  
  
The door swung open suddenly causing her to emit a startled yelp.  
  
"Oh, there you are!" Alistair gasped, equally startled by the sight of the mage in the door-frame.  
  
"I was wondering where you'd run off to." He relaxed and took her gently by the wrist, leading her inside. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled her to him and curled his strong arms around her waist, head resting against her ribcage.  
  
"I-I just had a rather enlightening chat with Morrigan." Ksenia willed herself to keep calm but it was so damn hard when she had to contend with meeting Alistair's gaze. Big chocolatly- brown puppy dog eyes stared up at her filled with love and reverance as he ran his hands languidly along the small of her back.  
  
"Oh? What did that twisted ol' bat want?"  
  
"She wants you to sleep with her."  
  
Alistair dropped his hands abruptly, an eyebrow arching heavily.  
  
"What-what-what? Wait...what?"  
  
Ksenia sucked in a breath, feeling her knees begin to shake. Not trusting herself to stand upright, she sat down beside him and took his hand in both of hers, tracing patterns along his palm with her index finger.  
  
"She knows a ritual;" she said mutedly, unable to look at him for fear of betraying the tears she struggled to keep hidden. "...one that'll let us survive the fight with the Arch-demon. All you have to do is close your eyes, grit your teeth, lie back and dream of cheese."  
  
"I..." Alistair looked at her as though she'd just transformed into a giant spider- his mouth twisted into an incredilous grin, eyes saucer-like and face slightly paled. "You can't be serious! What kind of ritual?"  
  
"I don't know." Ksenia lied, feeling dirty as the words crossed her lips; "All she told me was that it will ensure both our survival tomorrow. But in order for it to work, she needs a virgin sacrifice...s-so to speak."  
  
She looked up then, watching as he raked his hand through soft, wheat-coloured hair, chewing his lip out of nerves.  
  
"Wow. Die a brutal, agonising death or sleep with Morrigan." he said with disbelief, a crinkle appearing in his brow. Ksenia squeezed his hand reassuringly, lifting it to her lips to kiss his knuckles.  
  
  
"I hate asking this of you but I do it because I love you. I-I don't want to see you die tomorrow. The very thought of it-!" she trailed off, feeling her chest tighten as tears welled up within. Sighing deeply, Alistair pulled her against his chest. Tilting her chin up just enough, he kissed her chastily before resting his chin on her head and rubbing her softly.  
  
"You're sure this will work?"  
  
"Positive. I trust Morrigan with my life even if you don't quite hold her in the same regard..."  
  
"Then...then I'll take one for the team." he mumbled sheepishly, his embrace tightening just enough. "Maker, this night is not turning out the way I planned..."  
  
"Why?" Ksenia blinked, peering inquistively into his eyes; "What did you have in mind?"  
  
The blonde ex-templar inclined his head behind him. It was then Ksenia noticed the many candles lighting up the room, casting a soft glow upon them both. On the night-stand were two glass tumblers and a small bottle of what looked to be wine. The bed was littered with velvety rose petals.

  
It was obvious he had put a great deal of thought in this last night together. The knot in her stomach tightened. Such a waste... she thought wistfully. Reaching to tangle her hands in his hair, she kissed him tenderly as she cupped his head in her hands.  
  
He sighed against her, aching to deepen it but he thought better of it. Pulling away, Ksenia smiled and let an awkward chuckle escape her. "Technically, this doesn't count."  
  
"It doesn't?" he blinked at her, confused.  
  
"It's... just another quest. A...a duty of a Grey Warden, right? Wardens do what they must."She gave him a quick peek, chuckling uneasily. "It's not love. It's business. Besides..." she leaned in to lightly nip his ear, making him gasp sharply. "The night is still quite young..."  
  
"Your logic;" he kissed her collar-bone gently; "Is infalible as always. So, it'd be a means to an end, then?"  
  
"Pretty much. I threathened her with furious rage and death by pointy stick if she made the experience anything less than enjoyable for you." Seeing the uncertainty upon her love's face, she placed a tiny kiss to his forehead. "I'm sorry. I've asked so much of you already, my sweet prince-"  
  
"Kes..." Alistair took her hands and placed them on his chest-bare and taunt, inviting in the candle light. "I love you." he whispered.  
  
The mage stifled a choking noise in her throat. She nodded once before they both stood, an uneasy silence falling upon the room. Standing on tiptoe, she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him with every last drop of passion, vigour and desperation left in her lithe body.  
  
She could feel the tension in him as she held him for just a moment, feeling the hard muscles of his back tense with dread over what lay across the hall. Without another word, Alistair reluctantly parted from his beloved and pulled open the door.  
  
He cast her one last, pleading glance over his shoulder before he crossed the hall.  
  
His heart was in his throat.  
  
Talk about being thrown to the lions...!  
  
  
\------------------------  
  
Morrigan was waiting for him when he crept into her room.  
  
  
Gulping back the lump in his throat, the ex-templar was momentarily taken aback by the sight of her. The witch had changed out of her scant robes (if they could even be called that) to stand before him in a simple black dressing gown. Her raven hair was loose of its' usual tight bun and in the dim light of a single candle mounted on a bracket near the bed, it seemed almost to melt into the silk upon her shoulders.  
  
She said nothing to him as she handed him a chalice of dark green liquid. It smelt of limes and peppermint and for a brief moment, Alistair recalled the very first time he had kissed Ksenia, seemingly a lifetime ago by the lake one glorious summer's day.  
  
Exhaling the breath he had'nt realized he was holding, the young blonde stared around the room, not sure what to expect. Aside from a white ring of salt encircling the bed, there was nothing out of the ordinary and that seemed to scare him more than the visions of blood and darkness.  
  
Morrigan's gaze was heavy, scrutinizing. She motioned for him to drink but Alistair hesitated.  
  
"What is it?" he said accusingly, lips pursing into a thin line.  
  
The witch rolled her eyes. "Just something to calm your nerves. Trust me, if I wanted to poison you, I would've done it long before now."  
  
Eying her with suspision, Alistair slowly raised the chalice to his lips and took a cautious sip.  
  
The potion was surprisingly light, icy cold and refreshingly sweet. Closing his eyes, he summoned his courage to down the entire lot and found the effects to be instantanious. The tension in his shoulders disappeared, replaced by a blissful haze that was almost akin to the warm fuzzy feeling of being a touch too drunk on Dwarvian firewater.  
  
"Shall we get a move on?" Morrigan said in a clipped voice, drumming her fingers against her hip. Nodding quietly, Alistair sat on the edge of the bed and shuffled upwards, sprawling out on the mattress. He lifted his hips enough to shuffle off his britches and underclothes and for a moment, he found himself feeling incredibly vulnerable in spite of the potion's relaxing aura.  
  
The witch made an odd noise of approval towards his naked form and it served only to bring further colour to his cheeks. Undoing the knot in her gown, Morrigan shimmied out of it, letting the silk pool around her ankles.  
  
Alistair's breath hitched.  
  
She was completely naked.  
  
Smooth skin the colour of milk glowed faintly in the dim light before him. Her breasts, free from the implausible, gravity-defying constraints of her bra appeared to be smaller than he previously thought but by no means diminised. Try as he might, Alistair couldn't help but stare, eyes taking in her slim frame and the curve of her hips, her long legs, the small patch of curls at the apex of her thighs.  
  
He felt himself stiffen and again, she churred her approval. Closing his eyes, Alistair's hands clenched in the sheets. He felt her crawl over him, strandling his hips with her own. Spindly fingers curled around his lenght and he squeaked in alarm, cracking one eye.  
  
She was looking at him with a bemused expression and as she lowered herself into his lap, a low sigh escaped her.  
  
  
"Ahhh..!" Alistair gasped in spite of himself, startled by the new sensation.  
  
  
Warm. Wet.  
  
Morrigan rocked her hips slowly, mindful both of his inexperience and her promise to the young mage. At first the ex-templar lay motionless, an expression that was caught between a grimace and an embattled smile etched upon his face. Bracing herself by placing her hands upon his shoulders, the witch made a circling motion and his eyes shot open.  
  
"M-Morrigan!" he crocked, traitorous hands grasping her hips none-too-gently. The malicifor smirked and leaned forward just enough, flush with his chest as she breathed against his chest.  
  
"Alistair...?" she sounded almost coitish, dropping her hands to lazily stroke along his sides, over the lines of his ribcage, the crease of his hips, his pectorals. Arching into her touch, he inadvertedly buried himself deeper and she let out a gasp.  
  
They soon fell into a clumsy rythmn, rocking unsteadily against each other. Occasionally, Alistair would dare sweep a hand up to touch her breast. He was unsure, frightened even but she did not protest as he cupped her. If anything, she could only moan as his thumb ran over her nipple.  
  
A strange, wanton noise to his ears. Her breathing quickened and the grip of her thighs against his hips tightened. _Sweet merciful Androste, what am I doing-?!_ Alistair thought to himself, sweeping his hands up to wrap tightly around her waist as he thrusted forward unsteadily, silencing his strangled gasp as he sat upright and buried his face in the nape of her neck.  
  
She smelt like black cherries.  
  
The ex-templar felt her clench her thighs around him, pulling him in even more and he whimpered, lip quivering with a curious mixture of fear and pleasure.  
  
With rasping, shaking breath, Alistair thrust one, twice, three times before pistoning into her with gradual speed, gritting his teeth against the inside of his cheek as he willed himself not to come completly undone. Conflict swirled in his brain: he loathed the fact that it was Morrigan currently writhing in his lap, hated how she gasped and moaned softly against his ear yet he couldn't fight against his body's betrayal.  
  
It felt good.  
  
 _Too good._  
  
Morrigan found herself whimpering, thighs quivering against him as she felt pressure build behind her navel. Surprised by how pleasent he felt buried within her core, she rocked her hips to match his somewhat clumsy rythmn, the tension swelled even further. Her fingers raked up his arms, over his shoulders and fisted in his hair. Before she could stop herself, the malicifor lost the run of her control and drowned out a low cry of pleasure by clamping her lips on his.  
  
Alistair's eyes shot open at that. He pulled away from her lips as though they were coated in poison, paling as he stared wide-eyed at her. The witch's expression was equally perplexed and if the young blonde man didn't know better, he could've sworn she was blushing furiously.  
  
"I-I...Morrigan..." he mumbled sheepishly, rubbing a hand down his face as he felt his own cheeks burn.  
  
Damn her. She even _tasted_ like cherries.  
  
"Are you alright, Alistair?" her voice was soft, almost bashful even and her fingers gently stroked the taunt line of his spine, tracing the knots of his vertabrae with a spindly index. He groaned and rested his head on her shoulder, exhaling a shaky breath as a deep sigh.  
  
"Conflicted..."  
  
  
"It feels quite nice, doesn't it?" Morrigan had entended to sound condescending but it came out as a breathless gasp, his hips still moving of their own accord against her.  
  
Alistair nodded, his answer a quiet murmur as he quickened his pace just a little, choking on his breath as he felt her nails run down his back before her fingers found his buttocks and grabbed them with such force it was all he could do to cry out in alarm. The knot in his gut tightened and he felt a familiar rushing of blood in his ears.  
  
Before he could stop himself, Alistair had flipped her over so he had her pinned beneath him, an agitated grunt escaping his lips. Caught off guard, Morrigan gasped at his prowess but any compliants she might've had voiced were swiftly silenced as he thrust up hard and fast, bruising her hips with his tight grip as he threw all thoughts of chivlary out the window.  
  
He wanted it to end, to just climax and run screaming down the hall in desperate search of bleach and a wire brush yet simulataniously, he wanted to prolong the torture, to drown in the warmth that was swiftly enveloping his body, a tight knot of tension forming below his navel.  
  
He pushed into her swiftly before drawing back, shuddering at the sensation. Morrigan arched her back as he moved, head lolling to the side as she scrunched her eyes shut and gave in to the overwelming sensations that danced across her skin like wildfire.  
  
"Ali-- Alistaaiir..!" her voice was a breathless whisper against his lips and as he dipped his tongue into the moist crevice, the non-templar felt her legs squeeze him even tighter.  
  
Head tossed back as she arched her back and wrapped her arms around his neck for support, she could hardly think much less speak as the new angle made her gasp, the tip of him brushing against a hot knot of flesh deep within her core. Dropping one hand down to where their bodies connected, the malicifor searched among the little patch of dark curls for that all-powerful nub, fingers probbing roughly, swirling over the mound with frantic urgency as she felt her own climax draw close.  
  
"Ahhh...." Alistair hissed through his teeth, pistoning in and out of her hard enough to make her breast bounce with each thrust. "Holy-! Ahh-aahh! M-Morr-iig-aaann---!" he choked, pulling her closer with each frantic jerk of his hips.  
  
Her arms practically crushed his windpipe as they wound tight around him and as he came with enough force to make his eardrums pop, Alistair's cry of esctasy mixed in with a glorious scream from his bedmate as her own orgasm swiftly followed suite. Body clenching around him, she held him in a death-grip as they rode the wave of their pleasure, gasping and panting until they both collasped, utterly spent against the mattress.  
  
"An...Androste's-Androste's....tits...!"Alistair croaked, chest rising and falling erraticly as he struggled to catch his breath. Morrigan rolled towards him, smirking like the cat who got the cream.  
  
"Well..!" she let out a gasping, breathless chuckle, a hand moving to wipe the sweat from her forehead. "I...I see the tales...of Grey Warden endurence are not ...exagger-exagger....whew!"  
  
Alistair bit his lip, feeling tears sting at his ears. His body had betrayed him, forcing him to give in to sensation and ignore the screaming in his brain. Now, though, as he lay boneless and spent, covered in sweat and salt, the anguishd cries of his mind seemed louder in the stillness, drowning out the sound of his own breath as it came in sharp, ragged bursts.  
  
Scrunching his eyes shut, he felt his hands fly to his face, desperate to stop the anguished tears from falling. The mattress shifted next to him. Thin fingers stroked his hair with a surprisingly gentle caress, brushing away the knots and mattes. Peeking through his fingers, his brown eyes met with a pair of cat-like amber, peering at him with an expression that was starkly alien on the witch's face.  
  
Genuine concern.  
  
  
"Alistair..." her voice was no higher than a whisper, her lips a thin line as her fingers moved to trace over the line of his temple, down over his cheekbone to trace the contour of his jaw. Alistair shuddered at the touch, feeling bile rise in his throat.  
  
"D-Don't _touch_ me!" he managed to force out, springing upright. Before the witch could utter another word, he had wrapped the sheet around his waist and sprinted towards the door. Wrenching it open, he stepped into the hall and slammed it shut behind him.  
  
Leaning against the smooth mahogany, his shoulders slumped and his hands fisted in his hair.  
  
 _Why did I have to enjoy it? Why?! Gods...! I am a horrible human being-no. I am not human. I am a rat. A bug. A cockroache. I am the lowest form of vermin-!_  
  
The door across the hall swung open.  
  
A thin line of candle-light bounced off his barechest and he looked up. Ksenia stood in the frame, her expression drawn and stony. A choking whimper escaped Alistair's lips. He could barely stand to look at her as he stalked through the door, heart heavy with the weight of his betrayal.  
  
It was hard enough for her, knowing that their infatuation would come to an end after the corination but to give himself to the one women he detested with feverish passion-it was unforgivable.  
  
Ritual or no, it was a betrayal of everything he had cared for, everything he had struggled to build in the last two years.  
  
His mind raced over their time together:  
  
That first, faithful meeting in Ostagar. She wore robes of a rich gold, sparkling brighter than the sun.  
  
Her gentle words of soothing, small hands enveloping him as he shuddered with tears over Duncan's fall, his head nestled upon her bony shoulder.  
  
The simple gift of soap and shaving cream, the smell of mint.  
  
Their first kiss.  
  
How her fingers traced over the velvet petals of the rose he had given her as a token of deep affection.  
  
All of his memories scattered to the wind, blown away by the haunted look in her eyes. He had seen it only once before-the day they stood before the burnt out remnants of the saw mill, high above Redcliffe village. It was the same pained expression she wore when she told him of her darkest secret, her quiet anguish, the heavy burden she carried for the majority of her short years.  
  
"K-Ksenia..." Alistair's voice was hoarse with ill-supressed tears.  
  
Her hand was miniscule, all but lost in his palm as she took him gently, leading him to the ensuite washroom where a bronze tub of steaming water awaited. Peppermint filled the air and it soothed his restless spirit just enough to calm the flow of tears.  
  
"Ssshh..." she silenced him with a tiny finger to his lips, an embattled smile pulling faintly at her lips. "It is finished."  
  
He wanted to speak some more, to tell her how utterly sorry he was for everything that had happened but she would hear none of it. Instead, she raised her hands to the thin spaghetti straps of her nightgown, turning away from him.  
  
  
A knot formed in his stomach.  
  
The dress was too loose, too low for her frame. The skin of her back was puckered, shining with the scars of burns that would forever haunt her. Hand shaking, he reached out tenatively to touch her but stopped short, fingertips barely brushing her.  
  
Ksenia hoisted the fabric up, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside.  
  
"The water will go cold.." she murmured softly, unable to look at him. Alistair nodded once. She could've asked him to cut off his left pinky with a rusty dagger and he would've done so, no questions asked. Anything to make her look at him.  
  
Dropping the sheet to the floor, he climbed into the tub and hugged his knees to his chest. The water was hot but pleasently so and as it lapped at his tired muscles, he let out a low sigh. Comforting. A splash, the water sopping out the sides just a little and she was behind him.  
  
"I don't blame you for any of this." she whispered in his ear, her legs snaking around his hips as she pulled him flush against her chest, stroking him gently; "Like I said, it doesn't count."  
  
"B-But... I enjoyed it, Kes. Too much. I...I lost control of myself."  
  
"Morrigan may have had your body but your heart still belongs to me." she whispered gently, fingers trailing up into his hair to caress his hair in the way she knew made him whimper.  
  
He turned just enough and pulled her to him, his hands roaming over her back as he sought comforting in her arms once more. "I know I've hurt you, Kes...believe me, this is not what I wanted. I-I just want to be with you but everything's just falling apart at the se-"  
  
Again, she silenced him with a finger to the lips. This time, however, her hand lingered, thumb running over the swell of his bottom lip.  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
He obeyed.  
  
  
They bathed in silence, unable to find the words to make it through the night. Yet they weren't needed for sweet kisses, tender touches and loving caresses were enough. The water cooled, washing away the pain until it was little more than a dull ache.  
  
Fatique had plagued them both and though they where both laid bare, it was without any lustful intent. They kisses throughout the night, drifting in and out of fitful sleep until the darkness took them both.  
  
  
Their slumber soon grew quiet, calmed by the light of the approaching dawn...  
  
  
 **The End...?**

 

 


End file.
